


Blood Debt

by The_Whistler



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: F/M, Ghosts, Gun Violence, Halloween, Vampires, Werewolves, silver bullets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-27 05:22:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8388862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Whistler/pseuds/The_Whistler
Summary: They never told us the cause of the death of Colonel Walter. They only told us when. Maybe he chose that time so that there would be no one to stop it.SPG Colonel Walter AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> Characters and plot details come from the lore of Steam Powered Giraffe. Happy Halloween.

Colonel Peter Walter locked the door of his office in the Cavalcadium building and paused for a moment to let the truths he had learned that day rise to the surface.

She was still alive.

At least, she was conscious, sentient, walking and talking. He did not know whether she was breathing. Did they require breath?

The scientist in him had many questions. But the man could scarcely ponder them without breaking down.

He had been working that afternoon at organizing the details of his latest adjustments to his troupe of singing robots, and writing a monograph on Blue Matter robotics while trying to get a tour lined up for them. He was a busy man but he wanted to get home early to play ball with his two sons. He had a loving wife he cared for deeply. He was as content as a man could be who had seen so much.

Still, he hadn't forgotten _her_. But how he had tried!

As he worked, there was a knock at his door. A man was announced: Algernon Bendis. Funny sort of name, Peter had thought.

A young man entered, carrying a sheaf of papers.

"I say, are you _the_  Col. Peter Walter?"

English. Peter put down his pen and shook the man's hand.

"Yes, I am. I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Bendis."

Bendis waited until the runner had closed the door and whispered, "And I am very honored to meet you, sir! Thank you for seeing me. This is the matter of the greatest delicacy."

Peter's heart sank. He'd rather been looking forward to a ball game.

"Please sit, Mr. Bendis, and tell me of this matter. If it's to do with you and a young lady, however, I would encourage you to unburden yourself to your father and make an honest woman of the lady in question."

If Bendis had noticed any mirth in Peter's tone, he showed no sign of it. "Oh, no, sir! I assure you there has been no such lady! And my father and mother both have... passed away."

"Oh... I'm terribly sorry..."

"No, you couldn't have known. It happened a few years ago... shortly after we arrived in California. We got by... I live with my sister though the neighbors have spread rumors that she is not. The most foul accusations..."

"Mr. Bendis, please accept my apology. There's no need to go on. I see that I have made too light of your business. Please sit."

Bendis sat at last, his face now very red. He looked distressed beyond anything Peter's comment could have invoked. Peter quickly stood and poured a small brandy.

"Thank you, sir," Bendis sighed when it was offered. He looked at it for a long moment.

"Don't be shy. It's a very fine brandy and not enough to set you drunk."

Bendis smiled awkwardly and took a mouthful. His eyes watered as he swallowed it with apparent difficulty.

"Yes, indeed," he gasped, setting the rest down on the desk. "It's very nice..."

"Mr. Bendis, just how old are you?"

"Eighteen, sir."

Peter sat and stared at the boy. "Eighteen, and already under such a weight. Are you in need of money, or a new place to stay? I could help if needed..."

"That would be lovely, but we pay the neighbors no mind. My sister, in fact, will soon be married to a very good man who knows better than to listen to such nonsense. What I do need is your ear and an open mind."

"How fascinating! Do go on."

Bendis nodded. "I wonder whether you have heard of certain... otherworldly events in the area..."

"My dear boy, I have never had interest in the occult. Perhaps you should contact Sir Arthur Conan Doyle."

"Please, Colonel... I come to you for good reason! It's just... a very delicate subject."

"Then go on. I will not interrupt again."

Bendis at last opened the sheaf of papers he had brought in with him. He began to spread a collection of photos and papers over the desk.

"These are accounts by witnesses and police officers of a creature attacking people and animals at random in the San Diego area and beyond. They are unwilling to report these things publicly but were eager to unburden themselves to a stranger, once I assured them that I was a believer."

"You believe in all this?" the Colonel asked, peering at photos of damage to animals and property, mingled with handwritten accounts of a large, wolf-like creature. "You seem like a sober and sensible lad."

"And yet I believe in it firmly, Colonel, for I saw with my own eyes the monster that tore my parents to shreds."

Peter's hair stood on end. He'd heard many a tale himself, though he professed no interest. He secretly believed there was very little that was truly impossible.

"A monster?" he murmured, remaining neutral for the moment.

"Yes, sir. A lycanthrope, by all accounts. These accounts suggest it has continued to kill since then. It leaves the area sometimes, but the reports from surrounding counties and Mexico fill those gaps. The police are unwilling to connect them with the local attacks, but I have been particularly interested in tracking its location. I've sworn to stop it if I can."

"So you want to find it and kill it. But my dear lad, these reports indicate this beast has taken down seasoned rancheros and cowhands, among others. With all due respect, you are a city boy with no apparent fighting skill. Am I correct in that?"

Bendis nodded.

"So you would have to find it in its human form in order to overpower it! And if you kill it then, you risk hanging for murder."

"I know, sir. There's no known cure, so I must kill it. To kill it without being taken for a murderer, I must kill it not only while it's in its beast form, but preferably in the act of killing someone else!" The boy closed his eyes and shuddered. "It's almost been enough to stop me. Whose life should be sacrificed to prove I am not a cold-blooded murdering madman? 

"But more than that, sir... unless I catch him feeding on a human being, how will I know I am slaying the true monster? Wolves run in packs. I seek a lone beast that feeds on humans. Some animal eating a rabbit is unlikely to be the one."

"Mr. Bendis... I assume you came to me for help in accomplishing your goal. There was a time I would not have hesitated but... I am not as young as I was. And I have a family. There are more able men here that I could ask to assist you."

"There's more to it, sir. Of course, I did hope that I could get the necessary supplies from you. It's asking a great deal, of course. But silver bullets and a decent pistol are beyond my means."

"I would be glad to help in that area, of course. But as to the actual hunt..."

"I do have a good reason for asking you specifically, sir. I thought you might take particular interest in this.

Bendis handed him a paper.

"Read it. It's not about the wolf I'm after, but it may be enough to secure your participation."

"Young man, if this is some kind of threat..."

"Not at all! Please, read it."

Peter unfolded it and read it slowly.

"I had been sitting late, working by lamplight, when I heard a crash at the back door and was horrified to see a savage wolf-like beast charging into my house directly for me. I had barely enough time to recognize that death was imminent when I heard a pistol fire. The beast cried out and fell to the floor. It wasn't dead, however... I could see it struggle to rise. A gaunt, pale woman stood behind it, but as soon as I had seen her, she lunged for the beast and appeared to sink her teeth into its flesh!

"Too stunned to flee," he had said, "I watched her feed, unable to feel the same dread I had of the beast. I felt sure that she had come to my aid. Indeed, when she had finished feeding, she looked up at me, wiped the gore from her lips with a silken handkerchief, and assured me that I was safe.

"I thanked her and she lifted the beast, now restored to the form of a man, and carried it out as easily as an infant. I sat and pondered what I had seen... I could scarcely move for shock, but more than that, I was certain I knew her face. Since the blood she had drunk had plumped her flesh and pinked her cheeks, I could recall that had seen her many times in the newspapers. There was no doubt, unless she had a twin, that this was Delilah Morreo."

The room seemed to slip sideways. Peter took the rest of Bendis' brandy and tossed it back all at once.

"It can't be true..." he whispered.

"It's only one report, sir, but it was by a man of unimpeachable character. He was willing to tell me only because, as he said, he wished to save the girl from her curse but knew not how."

"But... she died! I was there when her last breath..."

Peter stopped. It still hurt too much to speak of it.

He looked at Bendis and saw a shared pain. Bendis nodded.

"I understand, sir. When my parents were killed, I arrived just as the beast was fleeing. My mother still lived. I was with her when she passed. The pain... never seems to cool or grow dull with time.

"I confess that from what I had heard of your long time romantic rivalry with Thaddeus Becile for the hand of one Miss Delilah Morreo, you in particular would find this detail to be of interest. If you wish to throw me out for presuming, I understand."

The office was silent. Peter wiped each eye and took a deep breath.

"Alright, Mr. Bendis. Where do we begin?"

 

And so it began. There were close calls and many other times they came too late. They found and stopped other beasts and received calls from further away, pleading for assistance, as world got out by whisper and rumor. From time to time, they arrived to hear that a strange young woman in black had come and dispatched the monster. But never did they see, with their own eyes, this woman.

No matter how Peter had tried.

Bendis had been absolutely right in coming to him. Peter loved his family. He told himself that he hunted the wolf in order to save them and others. But Peter knew the secret. He wanted to see her just once more. 

He had loved her, with the fire only a first love could inspire; a love that had never truly vanished. He had turned into a competitive fool and alienated his best friend because he could not face the possibility that she didn't love him best. When she died, the truth had come out that she loved neither of them. She wasn't able to love them. They could have seen it all along if they had only tried. Peter was humbled, but Thaddeus had gone mad.

And Peter had not anticipated the form his madness would take. He could only surmise that Thaddeus was to blame for what had happened to her. How and why, even then, she had become a creature of darkness that fed only on other such creatures, he didn't know. But trust Delilah to try and turn a bad situation into a good one.

It was not until his sons were nearing their teens that at last he met her again. He would ask himself again and again whether it had been worth the terrible cost.

A report had come in of a new round of attacks. They asked the police there to keep them very quiet so as to keep the attacker from moving on too quickly. When they arrived, they reviewed the gathered evidence. It was all very familiar.

They had it. The very beast they sought. Algy swore to it. They began tracking that night, and within a few days their long search bore fruit.

They soon had it cornered in a long disused house outside of Temecula. They also knew it hadn't fed, except in man form, in quite some time. What meals it consumed that way would never be enough for the bulky wolf form.

Peter's gun was at the ready. Algy, in his eagerness, had emptied his but only managed to strike its paw. It was both hungry and angry, now, charging from Algy's position toward Peter. He aimed and the beast turned sharply and fled the way it had come.

"It's running your way, Algy!" Peter screamed, sprinting after the beast.

"I have it, old boy!" cried Algy. "Dashed strong bastard... If I could only pin its..."

There was a ragged scream.

"Algy!" Peter roared, tearing through the splintered door. He stopped short, horrified.

Algy was on the ground, the beast on top of him. His body thrashed but Peter knew with a sickening certainty that it was not an effort to escape. It was what a man did when his insides were being devoured, when he could no longer scream, when there was nothing left but blind panic.

They had chased it half the night. It surely knew Peter was there, that he held the pistol, loaded with silver bullets. But its hunger had become the greater drive and Algy had been over-eager, afraid to let this chance slip by. He should have expected him to try and hold it himself.

But even if Algy survived this, he would bear its curse. To Algy, this would be more than he could endure.

Peter aimed the gun. If it struck true, it would kill them both. He forced himself not to look away from what remained of Algy's face. He owed him that at the finish, though he wondered whether his friend and partner was still lucid enough to comprehend what came next.

Algy's eye met his. They widened ever so slightly. He closed them for a moment, giving the barest of nods. There was a strange peace to it. He, at the last, was the one to die in order to be sure the beast was slain.

Peter clenched his teeth, holding back the grief that threatened to stay his hand. The beast would kill Algy before long and turn to defend itself. Algy deserved to see this moment.

He squeezed the trigger.

The beast yelped as the bullet passed through its ribs and with any luck, through Algy's heart. He heard a groan... He had a split second to see the life fading from Algy's eyes before the beast, wounded but not dead, was upon him, slamming him against the wall as he put up his arms to block the attack.

He struggled just to keep the snapping teeth away from his throat. The gun was still in his hand, his finger still on the trigger. Terror seized him... if the beast didn't get him, the gun would surely fire and he could not spare a single millisecond to see which way the muzzle pointed.

He kicked out hard and luck was with him; he struck the beast in the leg and it yelped and lost balance just long enough for Peter to turn the gun and fire... directly into its opened mouth.

A cold silence slowly settled on the dark house. He didn't know how long he stayed pressed against the rickety wall. The beast, now returned to his human form, lay as if asleep in his lap, bracing him against the beams in a half crouch. Peter leaned there, staring at Algy's mercifully lifeless body, now forever spared the same curse that had taken their target.

They'd both come into this to save lives, to stop this and other dark creatures of the night from harming the innocent. Algy had called it revenge, but his heart had truly been in the right place. He had been far too young to die this way... Peter would be obliged to tell his sister what had happened.

But Peter... he had come into it for more. He didn't hope that she could ever love him, not anymore. He knew now that she never had, at least, not in the way he had wanted. But even though he had moved on, still he longed to see her one last time. He wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish. Perhaps to apologize for his part in it. To make sure she was alright, in her way. To ask whether she wanted him to help her end her curse. She went about doing the same thing he did. But that didn't mean she was content to remain cursed in order to do so.

"Well done, Peter," murmured a soft voice.

Peter jumped. "You... you're here..." he babbled.

He couldn't see her... there was only the bright moonlight slanting through the window and the candle flickering in the room behind him. He began to push the dead man from his lap. He saw her silhouette against the moonlit window.

"Delilah!" he cried.

"Hush. Do not approach me."

"Are you... how are you?" he cried. "What's happened to you?"

"Leave them both and run home now, before the toxin reaches full effect," she responded, ignoring his questions. "Lock yourself in the vault until dawn, cleanse your wound with a paste of garlic, and sleep with a silver cross. I will send instructions soon, and an elixir every month to aid you in enduring your curse. Should you ever feel you can no longer bear it, send for me. I will not come to you in person until you are ready to be released."

"Released? From what? What curse?" he gasped.

But now that she had drawn his attention to it, he realized his hand was stinging. He held it up to a shaft of moonlight and gasped in horror. There were teeth marks! He had thought the blood came from the beast, or from Algy...

"How... how will you release me?" he asked weakly, closing his eyes.

"You know how. There is only one way. There are many roads, but only one destination."

"When did you become so cryptic?"

"You understand. You've been at this long enough and you're not a stupid man."

"Why not kill me now, Delilah?" he whispered. "You said it yourself. There's no cure."

He knew in his heart how much he wished she would simply take him in her arms and put an end to his years of guilt and anguish. He would savor a death such as that!

"You have a family to tend. The day will come when they are grown and no longer need you as they do now. You can stay with them if you follow my instructions."

His family. This he could not deny. He ached for her even now, but he couldn't simply leave them when there was a chance to stay. And he did care for Iris. It was a different sort of love, but love it was.

He looked at her with tears in his eyes. "Delilah... I'm so sorry..."

"Go, Peter! While there is yet time to slow the effects. These two will not be found. I promise it."

Her voice had turned guttural. Peter turned with a sob and ran the best he could from the house even as the sounds of feeding began behind him.

Delilah...

 

Peter woke. It had been so long since that night. Algy had been considered lost. Only Peter and Algy's sister knew what had really happened. He wasn't willing to allow her to go on, not knowing.

The sole comfort of Peter's life, at least on the worst days, was the promise Delilah had made. When the time came, she would come to him herself and put an end to his life.

He had sent for her already.

The boys were grown and moved out. Iris had passed on. The robots were away at war. And Peter was sick. Not dying, but not well. Now was the time. He could bear his curse no longer.

Somehow he had managed to keep them out of the secret. With her elixir, he was able to remain human during the full moon. But the pain was terrible every time. And now he was alone in the house. He'd sent the servants away for the night.

If only she would hurry... He would be very sorry to leave while the robots were away, but there was no certainty that she would be able to get past them and do what she needed to do.

He could feel a change in the room. It was colder, but the feeling was something more.

"Peter. I'm here," she said. "I hope you haven't forgotten what that means."

A corner of his room was especially dark. 

"Come out," he murmured. "I can't see you."

"Are you certain you want to, Peter? The result will be the same."

"You never stood much on ceremony. But I would like to think that your offer came out of some kind of affection."

"This again? I had thought you'd learned your lesson on that topic."

"I have no illusions, Delilah. I simply mean that we were at least friends. Weren't we?"

She stepped forward. Her face was pale and gaunt, but there was no mistaking. It was her. Despite his words, his heart thumped with joy. At long last, she was here.

"I tried to be," she breathed as she approached the bed. "With both of you. I don't think I ever encouraged your affections. Did I?"

For the first time he heard uncertainty in her voice. He held out his hand and she took it.

"Delilah... have you blamed yourself all these years for what happened?"

"I stood between you. Your heart was broken and Thaddeus lost his mind. I have never stopped wondering whether I could have prevented it with a timely word."

"Then tonight we can give each other peace. It never was, never could have been your fault. I swear to you that this is the truth."

She gasped softly and pulled a handkerchief from her bodice.

"Thaddeus and I were typical men," he continued. "We believed that by our labors we could win a woman's heart. The least act on your part was encouragement... a smile, a friendly embrace, a kiss on the cheek. Even your anger seemed affectionate. It was a madness in itself. I have repented of it. Too late, sadly, to save our friendship. If Thaddeus had lived long enough, he too might have learned the error of his ways."

"Thank you," she whispered.

She sat beside him and he felt he could wish for nothing more of life. He would never say so to her if it hurt her, but he loved her still. 

"Peter... Do you know?"

"Know what, my dear?"

"It was me. I killed Thaddeus."

"I had come to suspect as much. He was responsible for your current condition, wasn't he?"

"Not entirely... But no, it was worse. He performed an ancient ritual augmented by green matter. He raised me from the dead. And I hungered for human blood. It was ghastly, Peter!"

There was such pain in her voice! He had learned to forgive Thaddeus for many things, but this anger he would take to his grave.

"I had no control over it. I had been gone, dead... where, I no longer recall. And then I was pulled back into a dead body, forced into it, and it was so cold and I was gnawingly hungry and there before me was warmth, and I craved it! Thaddeus must have thought it was an embrace, that I was his at last..." Her voice was thick with emotion as she whispered, "Until I sank my fangs into his neck..."

She held the handkerchief to her eyes. 

"I never hated either of you!" she sobbed. "I did not wish him dead!"

Peter squeezed her hand. "No more did I, but his actions brought his death, Delilah. You were no more responsible than a newborn child..."

She nodded mutely, composing herself. "I will try and believe that," she murmured. "Maybe someday. Meanwhile, I bear a curse of my own creation. I attempted to correct the situation by drinking a concoction designed either to bring me to life entirely or return me to death. It was far too potent to do nothing at all.

"And the great joke was, it did something. It made me crave the blood of the cursed!"

"But then... at least the living are spared! You use it to do good deeds, Delilah!"

"I have tried to do so. But it also means that I must hunt constantly. That is, unless an old friend invites me in for a meal."

She removed her dark glasses. He could see the hunger in her eyes.

"I told you to leave that night for many reasons," she purred, eyeing his neck through lowered lashes. His hair stood on end. "I knew you could control it if you hurried, but I also could smell the curse upon you and my hunger was almost uncontrollable. Of the three options I had before me, the still living meal would have been the most delicious."

She tugged away his blanket, brushing the loose hairs away from his throat. Her fingers found the pulsing artery and she sighed with longing. She had never caressed him this way when they were young, and now she did it out of hunger, but it thrilled him all the same. He knew he was pathetic but he closed his eyes and savored the moment.

"I meant it then, Delilah," he whispered, looking into her face one last time. Time was running out, and he still had things to say. "I'm sorry. For everything. For my part in it all."

"Thank you, Peter," she breathed, her face close to his. "You were a young fool, but so were we all. And thank you for allowing me this. For once, my meal goes willingly and is grateful for release."

"I do," he said breathlessly as she continued to stroke the skin above the artery. "I am weary and sick and ready to move on, whether to Heaven or to Hell."

"Heaven, I think." Her breath tickled his throat. "You never gave way to your curse."

She was hesitating. He could tell she still had her reservations. He felt once more a pang of pity for her curse. His had been far less terrible, thanks to her.

"It's alright, Delilah. You don't need to wait any longer. But... I want to say with a full heart that I still love you very much. If you ever want release from your own curse... well, I hope you find a way as gentle as mine."

To his surprise, Delilah smiled sadly and kissed him tenderly on the lips. "Have peace now, my friend," she whispered, her eyes sparkling with tears. "Goodnight."

She tipped his head back and leaned in close to his neck, inhaling his scent. He tingled with mingled fear and longing. 

"Goodnight... oh..." he gasped as her lips caressed his throat and her fangs found their target. He shuddered with pain and ecstasy. "My love..."

He allowed himself the luxury of holding her tenderly in his arms as she fed. She did not appear to notice, or to mind. His head grew light, sound faded, the room seemed to shimmer. He couldn't feel her anymore. The light brightened and he was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is straight up fiction. Self-indulgent tripe. Enjoy the cheap thrills but no matter how sexy I made the ending, if you ever love someone who doesn't love you back, do everyone involved a favor and just deal with it, move on, let the thing go. If someone likes you, they won't avoid you constantly or play with your affections. If they play with your affections, they don't owe you anything. They've only shown their true colors. Just get the hell away from them. You'll be better off. If someone loves you, they don't treat you like crap. If you love someone, you want them to be happy. That sometimes means letting them go.
> 
> Mom moment over.


End file.
